[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain (38 page)

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Authors: Brian Jacques

BOOK: [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain
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Big Kolun hefted his oar. “Aye, an' if ye do get into any trouble, just give a yell, an' we'll be there at the double. Good luck to everybeast. Let's hope we all make it back safe to our families at Summerdell. Let's go an' rescue Leatho Shellhound now!” The otterclans moved off silently.
 
Pitru was on his way to the barracks when he saw Weilmark Scaut and a six-guard escort approaching. He ducked into the cover of the guardhouse. Watching them closely, he observed firsthand their capture of Scorecat Yund as he emerged from the barracks.
Disregarding Yund's protests, they had grabbed him roughly and were now frogmarching him toward the main gate lodge. Pitru, immediately realising what this was all about, cursed himself for a fool. He should have guessed that his father would not leave Atunra's murder unavenged.
The young cat hurried into the barracks, where he was met by his other two close allies, Balur and Hinso. Both catguards appeared badly shaken.
“Commander, they've just dragged Scorecat Yund off!”
“It was Weilmark Scaut and a band of guards. Your father'll make Yund talk, he'll find out the truth about Atunra!”
Pitru grabbed them both by their whiskers, hissing at them, “Shut up, fools! Don't you think I already know that? Stop panicking and listen to me. Balur, get to the lodge window. See if you can hear what's going on in there, then report straight back to me! Hinso, gather all the guards that are loyal to me behind the barracks. Wait for me there. Quick now, both of you, our very lives depend on getting things right. Go!”
 
Yund was pushed inside the lodge, where Scaut and the rest dragged him to an iron ring set high in the wall. In a trice he was bound to it, with both paws stretched painfully over his head. Riggu Felis stalked over to him like a huge beast of prey, shoving his naked, skinned face close to Yund's horrified eyes. The scorecat could feel the warlord's rasping breath in his quivering nostrils. He quailed visibly, his limbs trembling uncontrollably as the wildcat began the interrogation with a harsh, blunt question.
“Tell me, who killed my counsellor Atunra?”
It took Yund several moments to find his voice. “Lord, I don't know. I swear it, Sire!”
Riggu Felis nodded, as though he had accepted the explanation. He continued in a more reasonable tone. “Yund, my friend, do you know that I can skin a beast with this axe of mine? It's a very sharp weapon.”
The scorecat caught his breath as he felt the single-bladed war axe pressing against his throat.
The warlord continued in a casual, almost chatty tone. “Oh yes, and I'll wager you didn't know that I can keep that beast alive for nearly half a day after I've skinned him. He'll scream quite a lot, but that's only to be expected. Now, the one thing I can't abide is a liar. So this is your last chance, scorecat: Do you wish to tell me the truth? Who murdered my friend Atunra?”
Yund gave a prolonged whimpering sob, then spoke. “Lord, I was only carrying out orders.”
The warlord removed the axe from Yund's throat. “I understand. You did what any obedient servant would. So, tell me more, who gave you the order? Speak, friend, don't be afraid. I wouldn't slay any true warrior of mine.”
The scorecat uttered a deep sigh of relief. “Lord, it was your son, Commander Pitru, who ordered me to slay Atunra. I had to obey!”
Riggu Felis turned to Scaut, smiling. “You see, I knew it all the time, I only needed proof.”
The weilmark came to attention. “Sire, shall I take the guards and arrest him?”
The warlord replaced his helmet and chain mail half-mask. “Not just yet, there are other matters to be dealt with. First, we must resolve the otter problem. After that, I will settle accounts with Pitru, once and for all.”
Scaut saluted. “What about Scorecat Yund, Sire?”
Riggu Felis shrugged. “He is no true warrior of mine, only a traitor who would betray his commander. You may execute him, but not too swiftly. Make him realise the reward of treachery.”
Scaut possessed a naturally cruel nature, so this was the sort of thing he enjoyed. A despairing shriek burst from Yund's lips as he saw Scaut draw a long, slim dagger from his belt. Suddenly, an urgent rap on the door distracted the warlord's attention.
“Yes, what is it?”
Scorecat Rinat entered, making a swift salute with her spear. “Lord, the outlaw otters have been sighted in large numbers. They are approaching from the far end of the lake!”
Riggu Felis gave a purr of delight. “Perfect! I'll put on my finest cloak and armour to welcome them!” Leaving the pier lodge, he went off to his chamber.
Balur crept away from the window and ran off to report to Pitru, with the screams of Scorecat Yund adding speed to his footpaws.
28
With the exception of Cuthbert, most of the Long Patrol hares were ill-suited to seafaring life. The
Purloined Petunia
had been outward bound little more than a day and a half from Salamandastron, yet she was making remarkable progress. The odd hare, in his role as the sea otter captain, Frunk W. Bloodpaw, had driven them hard both night and day. Initially, nearly all the crew were seasick, but Cuthbert, playing the bully skipper to the hilt, had worked them so severely that all thoughts of illness had been knocked out of them. He further compounded the treatment by singing them a shanty entitled “The Landlubber's Lament,” accompanying himself on the ship's drum with his two ladles.
“There ain't nothin' like a life at sea,
when yore on pleasure bent,
so hearken crew, I'll sing to you,
The Landlubber's Lament
bold lads, the Landlubber's Lament!
 
I dearly loves a storm each morn,
when the ship heaves up an' down,
an' up an' down an' up an' down,
an' oftimes round an' round
bold lads, an' oftimes round an' round!
 
Wild gales rip through the riggin',
all the decks aflood with sea,
wid waves as high as mountains,
Ho, that's the life fer me
bold lads, ho, that's the life fer me!
 
So I boils up some ole skilly,
an' I stirs the duff in too,
in me greasy liddle galley,
'tis the stuff t'feed the crew
bold lads, the stuff t'feed the crew!
 
Pots o' cold'n'watery cabbage,
lots o' slimy turnip ends,
an' some fish heads with the eyes in,
to see that we're all friends
bold lads, to see that we're all friends!
 
Then I'll feed ye second helpin's,
just t'keep ye well content,
an' at night I'll serenade ye,
with the Landlubber's Lament
bold lads, the Landlubber's Lament!”
Tiria had put off her regalia whilst onboard, redressing in her old tunic and kilt. The ottermaid did not stand on the ceremony of her exalted rank; instead, she chose to take a turn at the oars with the hares. Sitting on the bench alongside Colour Sergeant O'Cragg, she rowed out the late-night watch, with both of them pulling lustily on a long sweep oar. The sergeant, a big sturdy hare, was usually taciturn by nature, seldom questioning things. But as they toiled together, he murmured to Tiria, “Beggin' yore pardon, miss, but h'are ye sure we're a-goin' the right way?”
He paused a while before voicing his thoughts. “Wot h'I means is this. When yore surrounded by water, h'everythin' looks the bloomin' same, miss. 'Ow d'ye suppose Cap'n Major Frunk knows where this 'ere Green h'Isle is?”
Tiria did not really know, but she thought up an answer. “I expect he knows by the position of the moon and stars. Though in the daytime, the cap'n steers by the sun, which always rises in the east and sets in the west. Also, we have our osprey. If the ship strays off course, Pandion can fly out and find the right way to go.”
Sergeant O'Cragg was satisfied with her explanation. “Thankee, miss, 'tis good t'know. Though h'if 'twas me steerin' by those stars, we'd soon be lost. 'Ave ye ever seen'ow many stars there is h'in the sky at night?”
Tiria turned her gaze upward. What the sergeant said was true. On first glance, there seemed to be the usual amount of stars, but as she continued to look, more stars than she had ever dreamed of became visible. All the vast tracts of the nightdark sky were aglitter with innumerable pinpoints of light—some large, some small, others so minute that they resembled dust, covering infinite areas of the uncharted dark vaults. It was a staggering sight.
Tiria lowered her eyes, blinking as she agreed with her companion. “Good grief, Sergeant, there seems to be more stars than sky up there. I've never looked long enough to notice it before, it's almost beyond belief!”
As they bent their backs to the oar stroke, Sergeant O'Cragg came up with another question. “Wot d'ye suppose they really h'are, miss?”
This time Tiria was stuck for an answer. “I don't know, I've never really thought about it. Have you any ideas, Sergeant?”
He surprised her with his reply. “They're the spirits h'of warriors, miss, h'every brave beast that ever fell h'in battle. Leastways that's wot ole Colonel Gorsebloom used t'tell me when h'I was nought but a liddle leveret. The colonel brought me h'up, y'see. H'I don't recall 'avin' no parents, miss.”
Tiria glanced sideways at her hulking oarmate. He looked embarrassed by his own words. She gave him a friendly smile. “Really, I wonder what made him say that?”
O'Cragg shrugged. “ 'Cos h'I asked 'im. The colonel taught me this 'ere poem h'about stars. Would ye like to 'ear it, miss?”
Tiria replied readily. “I'd love to, if you can still remember it.”
The colour sergeant winked at her. “ 'Course h'I can, just lissen t'this.”
Proudly, he recited the poem taught to him by his old mentor.
“There are many places a spirit may rest
when life's long march has ended.
Every creature returns to its home,
exactly as nature intended.
The cowards and traitors, the liars and cheats,
each in their turn is awarded,
someplace that they deserved to go,
as their actions in life accorded.
Those who proved untrue to their friends
lie thick in the dust of the earth,
trodden on forever by all
to show what treachery's worth.
In the mud of swamps, in rotting weeds,
they lie imprisoned by evil misdeeds.
But the warriors true, the brave of heart,
who valiantly upheld the right,
they are raised on high, to the velvet sky,
bringing light to the darkness of night.
They'll stand there as long as the sky will,
their honour in brightness will glow,
a lesson to see, for eternity,
of where the real warriors go!
So ere my eyelids close in sleep,
these are the words I will say,
may I have the courage and faithfulness,
that my spirit should join them one day.”
The ship sped on through the night as they rowed in silence. Tiria was lost for words. Who would have thought that the big colour sergeant, hard as granite and tough as oakwood, had a heart so innocent and simple? In the midst of these thoughts, she was startled by the arrival of their relief, Quartle and Portan.
“I say, shove over, you chaps. The blinkin' buffs have arrived, wot!”
“Rather, we'll be rowing the jolly old tub until dawn!”
Tiria and the sergeant rose from the bench as the two subalterns scrambled into their places at the sweeps.
Quartle twiddled his ears in a jocular manner. “Expect your old royal royalness is about ready for some flippin' shuteye, eh, miz?”
Portan winked impudently at the sergeant. “Nighty night, Sarge, off y'go, wot! I'll bet you dream about bullyin' greennosed recruits round the old barrack square. Leff right, leff right, pick those paws up, laddy buck!”
Colour Sergeant O'Cragg riveted them to their seats with his famous parade-ground glare. “One more word out of ye, an' h'I'll pick yore paws h'up an' sling ye h'into the sea, you'orrible liddle beasties!”
Tiria was still chuckling as she wrapped herself in an old cloak and lay down behind the small galley. Slumber was not long in claiming her after half a night of rowing. Cuthbert never slept; when on board, he was constantly on duty. The odd hare sat at the tiller in a sort of half-doze, steering his vessel by instinct. Apart from the gentle lap of waves, it was quiet. The
Purloined Petunia
ploughed smoothly over the deeps, on into the starstrewn night. Thirty-one hares, a fish hawk and one ottermaid westward bound.
 
In the grey half-light preceding dawn, Tiria was awakened by the high piercing call of the osprey. She looked up to the masthead to find that Pandion had gone. Making her way astern, the ottermaid found Cuthbert still seated at the tiller with one eye open. She questioned him briefly.

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